Once I headed south, Mississippi turned out to be a completely different world. Within just hours of being on a side highway, I saw a woman towing a crate meant for 2-3 goats with 10-15 goats shoved in, a 7 year old boy driving a Ford pick-up, lots of old houses with porch swings, and a suspicious crowded gathering of angry looking white people at an unmarked business that had no windows and a heavy boarded up door. Ooh, boy, the deep south. However, once I actually started visiting around, the culture shock abated.
The next morning I went to mass in Mississippi then to do some interviews in Reform, Alabama. Finding people on a Sunday proved to be a difficult task. And although no one was right out angry or rude, everyone seemed suspicious of this stranger. I decided to eat lunch where people suggested: The Place. This was my first meal of fried catfish and hush puppies. DELICIOUS.
I had all the interviews I thought I was going to get and headed further south. Before I left town, to my right, I saw a Catholic church. Mass started at 4 PM, I looked at the clock in my car: 3:56. Well, dang it, too much of a coincidence so I made a U-turn and headed in. This is by far the smallest Catholic church I have EVER seen. There were maybe 20 to 30 parishioners crammed in a tiny chapel. Unfazed, the priest bellowed out the liturgy in a voice that could have filled a cathedral. After the 35 minute service, he introduced me to the parish and they welcomed me with genuine enthusiasm. The Smiths, an active couple in the church, invited me to stay the night at their 1000 acre ranch outside town. How could I say no? I am just amazed by the wonderful and generous people that have come across my path. They had awesome stories to tell and wise words to share.
One of the most interesting things I found was when we were checking out a house they had just purchased. Doing the job I do, I visit LOTS of houses, ranging to 110 years old to only a few months. This was a pretty typical 1920's structure. In the back, though, behind the porch was a well.
"This was because the house was built before electricity and plumbing." She explained.
I was confused, "Wasn't this house built in the 1920's?"
"Yes, that was before the south was wired." I thought about the northwest, where I had never visited a house that had a well in the back, despite being in residences much older.
At the end of the civil war, the South was left destitute. Reconstruction put the nail in the coffin. It's all written plainly in text books, but it was incredible to see the other side of the story firsthand. Northerners will commonly have a stereotype of the ignorant, uneducated, Yankee-hating south. After spending time in small towns here, where I had to do verbal interviews with old men due to a high illiteracy rate, I completely understand that mentality. I talked with a couple from Hot Springs, AR. "Oh, ok, I was going to go there! Is that Hot Springs Village?" "No," They vehemently and quickly retorted, "That's where the Yankees live....no offense. They use all their North money and buy retirement homes there." In one of the counties I did interviews, there is a 10 percent illiteracy rate. 10 PERCENT. Among older African Americans, the percentage is considerably higher. Poverty is commonplace.
I knew America was going to be diverse, but I did not dream I would experience such a wide variety of cultures to this extent. It's easy to think, well, this is my country. I know my own homeland--after all, I'm American! If only I had enough time to tell the backgrounds of all the people I've interviewed or just chatted with along the way. I'm so grateful to have this opportunity to broaden my worldview in my own country.
Today will be a day of rest to check out the beaches in Florida and get some more miles under my belt. Life is rough. Til next time!
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